KISSY KISSY BATTLE CRY

Underneath a recent post, a Spammanian commenter suggested that anti-aging unguents were the answer. And would prolong life far beyond.
But good lord, nobody would ever desire a well-oiled zombie.
Although at times my cheeks are kissable and silken.
A good shave, and a skin restorative.
That's what's needed.

Or, if you're like my ex-girlfriend, sound genetic stock, a petite frame, and a deceptively innocent face. During the last few years that we were together, people would look at me as if I was some rancid old pervert (evil middle-aged white man), and her like a sweet young tropic flower roped in by the prospect of food. Caucasians do not mature as well as East Asians do.

Despite a mere eight year age gap between us, the difference in appearance was striking. She now looks twenty years younger than me, and I look positively degenerated.


I don't suppose you understand how good that is for the fragile male ego.


Someone seriously (!) advised me recently that I should try to find a female companion of my own age. My response was that two women half my age would be infinitely better. Preferable in any case. Twins.


That should teach them not to tell me what to do.
It came quite unbidden in any case.
Well-meaning, though.


Rendered grease from an endangered species. That's the ticket! It will make the skin lovely and soft. And then my face will seem like a baby's bottom at the end of a stick.



The rare velvet-cheeked iguana.




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